


love is a curse for your enemies

by Hokuto



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Dysfunctional Relationships, M/M, Nonnies Made Me Do It, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2018-12-08 03:51:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 9,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11638353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hokuto/pseuds/Hokuto
Summary: A small collection of Felix/Locus ficlets written for various prompts.  Prompts in chapter title, individual content notes in chapter summaries.





	1. Slap

**Author's Note:**

> I could no longer resist the lure of writing some fucked-up Lolix. I REGRET NOTHING.
> 
> Title from "Darwin, Jesus, the Devil, and Me" by Damion Suomi, which is a bit too upbeat for either of these assholes, really, but still felt oddly appropriate. LOCUS.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content notes: Face-slapping as lead-up to sex.

Felix was the people person. The talker. The wordy guy with a quip for all occasions. Of course, he could also put his money where his mouth was, but unlike _some people_ , why waste the energy when the right words could do so much? But hey, everyone had limits, and so maybe once in a while he'd lose his temper and slap the punk out of some little shit giving him trouble. Like maybe their current smart-ass bounty, for instance. Maybe he heard Locus's breath hitch when he did it, too: short sharp inhale when the back of Felix's hand smacked against the bounty's cheek, delayed exhale as the bounty's ass hit the ground with his stupid mouth open in shock, put in his place.

And maybe, being the people person that he was, maybe he remembered it later when they were working off the post-job jitters and their pathetic excuse for a spar was winding down. Locus still had his feet planted wide apart and his head lowered like a bull ready to charge, and Felix just slid one foot forward and touched his knuckles to the side of Locus's face and then drew his hand back and _wham_ , Locus's head snapped to the side.

He refocused on Felix within a second, some look in his eyes that Felix couldn't read, and Felix tensed up, ready for -

But Locus dropped to his knees instead, reaching for Felix's hips, and Felix relaxed (but not completely, never completely, not around him). "Knew you'd like that, you weird fuck," he said cheerfully, and began unbuckling his belt. "Does it take you right back to the good ol' days in boot camp, or are you just -"

Locus dug his fingers into the skin just above Felix's hipbones and growled, "Shut up."

"Make me. _Partner_."


	2. Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content notes: Blood, intimidation.

The knife cut on Felix's neck had broken open again, leaking red.

Locus forced his eyes away from it and tried to concentrate on the gun he was cleaning, but Felix waved a hand between it and Locus's gaze. "Hey. Earth to Locus. You seem a little distracted, buddy, what's the matter?"

"The only distraction here is you." The blood was bright, beaded in perfect little drops along the line of Felix's thin neck.

"But I'm your favorite distraction, right?"

"No."

"Really, what's eating you?" Felix leaned in closer and Locus dropped the pin in his right hand and grabbed him by the throat, the red spilling darkly between his thumb and forefinger as more oozed out.

An instant later he let go, but it was too late; Felix caught his wrist and saw the blood, and he grinned. "I get it, I really do," he said. "You like these little reminders that we're all human. All of us except you. But I promise, Locus, without that armor you bleed just like everybody -"

Locus grabbed him by the shoulder again with his other hand, wiped the blood off on Felix's mouth, and growled, "Shut. Up."

Felix did, briefly, but then his tongue darted out and licked at the smear, and cleaning the gun became a lost cause.


	3. Gunplay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content notes: Gun blowjob, Felix is a manipulative ass.

The funny thing about Locus is that he thinks being a weapon will make him, what, invulnerable? Invincible? Innocent? Something weird like that.

The _fun_ thing about Locus is that him trying to be a weapon makes him so easy to take apart. Just like cleaning a gun, and after years of war and bounty hunting and merc jobs, Felix could do that in his fucking sleep. Strip it, break it open, clean it, reassemble. Not that he wants to sleep at the moment.

Locus draws the pistol's barrel down Felix's cheek, but his eyes are fixed on Felix's lips, and it's not going to take more than ten words for Felix to get what he wants. So easy. Strip it, break it open, clean it, reassemble. "Well? Are you gonna shut me up or -"

Locus shoves the barrel into his mouth and Felix would laugh, except, you know, goddamn giant pistol in the way. But he's laughing on the inside as he sucks on the barrel and Locus puts on the pressure to get Felix down on his knees because man, it's not about the kneeling or the taste of metal on his tongue (though yeah, he's into that) or the focused look on Locus's face (but that sharpshooter's stare locked onto him so hard is pretty intense) or even the adrenaline rush (and there's a hell of a lot of that).

He does that thing with his eyebrows and Locus's eyes narrow before he pushes the barrel in deeper, right where Felix can get a more comfortable angle on it, really go to town. Like this he won't even have to touch Locus's actual, non-gun dick to get him to come. Freak.

Strip it. Break it open. Clean it. That's what it's all about. And when Felix puts Locus back together, he can point this particular weapon at anything he wants.


	4. Futility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content notes: Felix is still a manipulative asshole, brief references to violence, implied knifeplay.

_It's just one bounty_ , Felix had said. _Total douchebag. We'll be doing the whole city a big favor._

_We've got him in our trunk_ , Felix had said, after the bounty was canceled. _Think about the money. We're still helping the city._

The best that could be said for that mission was that they'd survived it, an outcome that had looked uncertain at multiple points. Still, Locus hadn't said no.

Before that:

_Hey, Sam_ , Gates had said, leaning on the cheap apartment's warped doorframe. _Fancy seeing you around here. How about you take an old war buddy out for some drinks?_

Ortez didn't drink.

_No? But I do. Just a couple rounds, c'mon._

And three drinks later, Gates had said, _You remember Wu? Mason Wu? From that clusterfuck on Eridani? Yeah, well, he remembered us, and he's got this great idea..._

In the right hands, it might have been a good idea. Wu had wanted to do good with it, at least. Ortez hadn't said no.

Long after:

_So it's a merc job. So what?_ Felix had said. _You take orders, you get paid - pretty much the same deal as the army, right? Except the pay doesn't suck balls._

_You were just following the client's orders_ , Felix had said, after the mission was completed. _Don't let it get to you. You've always been a good soldier, haven't you?_

_So dump the money on a charity for sick orphaned kittens or something, then, whatever. We followed orders. It's not gonna keep me up at night. I got another one lined up already. You in, or are you going to sit around and cry about some too-stupid-to-live miners?_

They had a reputation to build. They never refused a job. Locus hadn't said no.

Long, long before:

_Ortez. Hey, Ortez_ , Private Gates had said. _You're not still beating yourself up over this morning, right? We just did what we had to do._

_It was the enemy, Ortez! It was a, a trap or something, it was so obvious, I can't believe you fell for that bullshit. "It's scared, ooh" - gimme a break! You followed orders, that's what the army's all about. Just like the man said._

_Damn, you are really high-strung, aren't you. You need to learn to chill out, relax, deal with it. C'mere. I know something way better than those gross chill strips._

Private Ortez hadn't wanted to relax. But he hadn't said no, either.

And now:

"We can't do anything about those fucks until tomorrow, anyway," Felix said. "Might as well kick back, work off some steam. Whaddaya say?"

Locus didn't answer, concentrating on cleaning the sniper's scope.

"Just a little bit of fun. It won't actually kill you, you know that, right?" He leaned on Locus's shoulder, his breath hot on Locus's ear. "I mean, it didn't last time. Or the time before. Or even that time with the -"

"Leave me alone." A futile request.

"Aww, partner, don't be like that," and Felix chuckled. "There's nobody else here. Just the two of us. Just like old times." A faint hiss-scrape as he slid his back-up knife out of its sheath. "C'mon, asshole. Help me unwind a little, and I'll let you, I don't know, suck on your rifle or whatever really gets you off. Don't leave me hanging here, buddy. I'll make it quick. Promise."

And in the end, as always, Locus bent: head tilted back, throat bared, waiting for the blood to flow.


	5. Breathplay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content notes: Unsafe breathplay practices, do not try this at home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess I'm writing more of these, whoops.

Felix didn't end up in this position often, and he was planning to enjoy the hell out of it.

Locus was completely still between his legs, glaring up at him - totally frustrated at landing on the floor after that round of sparring, Felix loved it - and Felix grinned right back down at him because he'd hate that even more, then put his hand on the hollow of Locus's stupidly thick neck.

"What are you doing?" Locus said flatly.

Felix leaned forward, shifted to put some of his weight on the heel of his hand, and Locus swallowed. God, didn't that feel good. The flex of muscles under his palm, how fucking _fragile_ that little breathing-tube in there was, how if he just leaned a little bit harder even Locus would -

Locus's breath was getting uneven, shallower, faster. Okay, well, that was good, too, and Felix eased up - but not too much. "Ssh, it's okay," he said. "I'm just playing with you, buddy. No harm, no foul. Right? You like that?"

"No," Locus said, but he'd hesitated, his eyes flickering along the line of Felix's arm, and that was all Felix needed.

Next time, he pressed harder.


	6. Madness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content notes: Ableist language, Felix scheming.

Mason - oh, excuse him, _Siris_ , _don't you dare call me that like we're still friends, Felix_ \- had thought he was crazy.

Had shouted it at him, actually. Made a huge, stinking fuss, which thank fuck Locus hadn't actually been around for. _This is insane_ , he'd yelled in the alley behind the club. _You're insane! You can't keep - keep pulling off this kind of thing, escalating every single time! And maybe it starts with your bad ideas, but he's the one that takes it too fucking far. One of these days you're just not going to be able to talk or fight your way out of this shit. You're going to get yourself killed! Hell, with the way the two of you fight, he'll be the one who does it!_

Honestly, he had probably been right.

So what?

Felix knew what he was doing. He knew how to rile Locus up, how to rein him in, what kept Locus awake at night, what got him off when they were both too worked up to back down. He knew where the real money was (not in piddling little bounty-snatching), he knew how to deliver the kind of results that brought in the real money, and unfortunately, he knew that he needed Locus's special brand of crazy to pull it all off. Needed the sniper skills, the intimidation factor, the willingness to fall in with any kind of bullshit as long as he had the right excuse and didn't have to think too hard. ( _Just follow your orders, soldier_ \- easy as telling a little kid dirt tasted like chocolate and watching them shovel their mouths full.) Needed someone who'd always have his back when the bullets started flying.

(Needed to _know_ he wasn't going to take a job and find himself on the other end of that sniper, or those giant hands wrapped around his neck, or -)

It might be insane, but it was also _intoxicating_. And when it paid off, Felix was going to put his mansion and his billboard TV and his swimming pool full of money right on top of Mr. Totally Sane Mason Wu's shitty little house for an I-told-you-so.


	7. Second Best

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content notes: Post-s13, no actual Felix, Locus & Siris.

It wasn't difficult to find Siris. He had never had as much to hide from.

Attempting to approach him at his home would be foolish, appear to be a threat. Locus watched his daily routine for three days, assessing the best time and place; on the fourth day, he waited for Siris to enter his customary bar after work with two of his fellow employees, counted out five minutes, then went in and took a seat at the bar, a safe distance from Siris's table but within Siris's line of sight.

He ordered water and waited.

It only took another few minutes before Siris, as he took a drink, glanced over at the bar and choked. Understandable. Locus hadn't been expecting a warm welcome. Siris recovered quickly, said something to his co-workers, and came over with his glass to take the empty stool next to Locus. His gait was smoother than it had been; an improved prosthetic, perhaps.

"I thought that looked like you outside the grocery store the other day," Siris said.

"I was trying not to alarm you."

"Seeing either of you again was going to scare the shit out of me, no matter what," Siris said, although he had a faint smile on his face. "Have to admit, though, you're not the one I thought was going to come back."

 _Unfortunate_ , said a voice; not his own, but equally familiar, bitter and twisted. _Reeeeeeal fucking unfortunate. Even he knew what you really were, huh? Figured I'd finally get wise and crawl back to him. Hoped he would see_ me _again. Not you. Never you -_

Locus said, "You haven't been watching the news, have you."

"Usually just the local stuff." Siris took a long drink, and his smile was gone when he finished. "I had a feeling I wasn't going to like what I heard."

"You wouldn't."

Siris sighed, drumming his fingers on the bar. Locus raised his glass to his mouth without drinking, waiting for the inevitable. _Get out. Get away from my real friends, my family. Get out of here, monster, you're not who I wanted to see. The last person I wanted to see._

"Well, I have an hour before Meg starts getting antsy about our takeout," Siris said. "Might as well fill me in on what I've missed. And, Sam?"

Even Felix hadn't called him that in a long, long time. "Yes?"

"You might want to order something more than water -" He was smiling again. "- or you're going to get something besides water in your next refill."

"... noted."


	8. Solace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content notes: Aftermath of explosions, unsurprisingly Felix continues to be manipulative and douchey.

They staggered out of the burning warehouse complex hanging off each other, wheezing and hacking smoke out of their lungs and covered in ash, half-dead and half-blinded and, in Felix's case, all furious.

As soon as he was sure he wasn't actually on fire anymore or choking on blood, he dug his fingers into Locus's back and yelled, "Five minutes! I told you to set the charges for five minutes so we could get out of there! What the hell is _wrong_ with you? You almost killed us both, you crazy fuck! What were you -"

Locus shrugged him off effortlessly and slammed him to the ground, a heavy hand pressing down on Felix's collarbone, and he growled, "Don't. Call me. _Crazy_."

Fuck, too much, too far. Time to pull back, get control again. Felix coughed and spread his hands. "Jesus, I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry. Didn't mean it. That was just a really fucking close call and it pissed me off, you know how _almost dying_ puts me in a bad fucking mood. Okay? Okay?"

Locus glared down at him with bloodshot eyes, his breathing hoarse, his hand still weighing on Felix's chest like a goddamn anchor. Finally he lifted it so Felix could breathe again and said, "We need to get away from here."

"No shit, genius." Felix grabbed Locus's arm and let himself be pulled back up to his feet, and they limped back to the car.

Once they'd made it back to the hideout and double-checked that they hadn't been tailed, Felix headed for the shower, but Locus stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "I did set the charges for five minutes," he said. "The timers must have run fast. Or something else set them off early."

"Yeah. Whatever."

"I _know_ I set them for five minutes."

Felix let himself sigh, turned around and put his hand over Locus's, forced a smile and softened his voice. "It's okay. It doesn't matter. We made it, didn't we? It's okay."

Locus didn't answer - not vocally, anyway. His shoulders slumped, and he loosened his grip on Felix's shoulder - but he didn't take his hand off it, or knock away Felix's. Perfect. He still had it. God, Felix was _good_. So good he deserved a reward, and he slid his hand up Locus's arm, pulled him closer despite the reek of smoke, and wiped a smear of blood off Locus's cheek with his thumb as he said, "C'mon, partner. How about we save some water, clean up together?"

Locus shut his eyes and sighed tiredly, but he followed Felix's touch into the shower like a dog on a leash, and under the hot water he melted, quick and easy in Felix's hands as Felix whispered _ssh, it's okay, it's okay_ in his ear. Under control, completely under control, and just for a couple of seconds, as the soot washed off them in dirty gray streams, Felix allowed himself to relax against Locus, too.


	9. Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content notes: Felix is less actively horrible when he's asleep and not talking?? WHAT IS THIS MADNESS. RUN LOCUS RUN.

Felix is sleeping on stakeout. Again.

Worse, he doesn't even have the decency to lean against the window or slump back in his seat while he sleeps. No, he's oozed over the divider and into Locus's side of the car, his head cushioned firmly against Locus's upper arm despite the obvious discomfort of such a position, and Locus spares a second from his surveillance of the target's hideout to glare down at Felix. Felix doesn't stir. He's always slept easily and deeply, regardless of the risk. Even in the war, although at least then the right stimulus would wake him just as quickly.

Locus could leave him there. He should leave, and let Felix face the consequences of his own carelessness when the target slips away. It's been a long stakeout and Locus is tired himself. Tired of the continuous watch. Tired of sharing the car's confinement with Felix and his terrible music and endless, meaningless chatter. Tired of _Felix_.

He could leave. Leave, and never come back. There are other bounties out there. Other jobs that he could take.

Felix sighs in his sleep. Mutters something incomprehensible - even asleep, incapable of shutting up - and shifts, burrowing deeper into Locus's arm. Relaxed, softened, mostly quiet. Foolishly vulnerable, as he rarely is when awake.

Locus watches the hideout's exit alone, without moving, as the night passes and his trapped arm grows numb.


	10. Money

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content notes: only tangentially about the money, Felix is actually more of a garden-variety jerk this time? Locus just has some issues, man.

Locus had never been sure what to do with the money.

His own needs, unlike Felix's, were simple; he paid rent on a small apartment that he rarely occupied, he kept himself - and occasionally Felix - fed, and he was much less wasteful and more careful with his equipment than Felix. What he didn't use he kept in various savings accounts. He sometimes considered giving a regular portion of it to charity; Siris had set them on their path to do good, and as Locus doubted that most of their recent work had benefited anyone but themselves, donating the money might make an acceptable substitute. Except, when it came down to it, he was unable to decide on the worthiest, most appropriate cause, and so the money continued to accumulate, useless.

After the latest mission, Felix had followed him back to his temporary accommodations and stolen the bed, calculating their profits while Locus attempted to repair his shotgun. A fruitless endeavor, given the damage it had taken, but it had been a reliable tool for years, and he disliked the thought of having to replace it.

"Hey, Ortez," Felix said abruptly, from his sprawl across the bed. "How much do you still have from the Reynolds job?"

The job before the latest, and a well-paid one. "Most of it." And, although he assumed he wouldn't want the answer, he asked, "Why?"

"Getting kind of boring around here, isn't it? And slow. Limited options, especially when it comes to equipment and the type of jobs we can take." Felix sat up, tossing his phone aside. "But - and I know this kind of thing is hard for you, just give it a try for me anyway - imagine what we could do if we had armor again."

Locus's hands stopped on the gun.

"I mean, it's going to be expensive as fuck to get anything like what we had in the war, but think about it. Less worrying about being recognized, way broader range of planets to hit up, we can take bigger jobs that pay better, we can - are you even listening to me?"

"Yes," Locus said.

"Yes to which part?"

"Armor is a good idea." Military grade, of course. Full-body would be best. Models they were already familiar with. Through the proper channels, it might even be possible to acquire their own armor again, or suits similar enough that it would make little difference.

Felix was looking at him oddly; then he said, "Yeah, okay. I'll call some people tomorrow, see what they can get their hands on."

Locus put the irreparable shotgun aside. "Money isn't an object. Get the best available."

"I'm going to go out on a limb here," Felix said, "and guess that you want the exact same fucking stupid helmet, too. Just a shot in the dark. Well? Am I right? Christ, you are so predictable."

* * *

He came to it prepared: clean, empty, long hair cut and shaved.

The dealer had laid both sets of armor out in the back room of her mundane business for them. Undersuits folded into a square, boots and greaves below, gauntlets on each side, chestplate and back armor above, the helmets placed neatly at the top. Only the undersuits were new; the rest had seen war, scars that buffing and polishing couldn't disguise.

He dressed slowly, in silence, while Felix struggled and cursed and grumbled to himself. The routine of it returned to him easily, as if he'd last gone through it yesterday. This part first, then that one. Fasten it. Next piece. One after another.

The helmet came last. He picked it up in hands securely insulated by suit and gauntlets, staring down into the solid visor and its painted X. The scratches on the left, from the ambush on patrol. The dent in the mouthpiece where he had been unable to completely deflect shrapnel from Gates's ill-timed grenade. The half-erased, fading scorch marks from Eridani. His own helmet. His _face_ , for so many years; a thing such a part of him that he still reached for it on waking every morning.

"You like it? Cost you plenty for the work it took tracking it down, but you did say money was no object..." Felix leaned into peripheral vision, the room's fluorescent light reflecting garishly from his helmet's visor. "And what's a little extra effort between partners, anyway?"

He wanted to drop it, even as his hands tightened on it. Wanted to throw it away, with an irrational repulsion.

"Here, I'll do the honors," and Felix tugged it out of his grip, turned it around; Locus bent his head automatically and Felix slid the helmet over his bare scalp until it clicked into place. Felix stepped back, looked him over, and said, "There you go, ugly as ever. Like you never left, Ortez."

The helmet was cold, confining, familiar; tactical read-outs lighting up, the air filtered and stripped of scent. Clean and professional. "It's Locus."

"Yeah. Guess it is, now. So, worth the money?"

He didn't know.

"Let's go. See how fast we can make our money back now that we've got the good stuff," Felix said.

Locus followed.


	11. Blood II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because a fill for "bloodplay" wasn't enough, this prompt for just "blood" came up and I had to do something again.
> 
> Content notes: Pre-canon, aftermath of violence and torture, shockingly Felix isn't that much of a jerk (although he's not that great at the c part of h/c either).

"Let's get you cleaned up," Gates said, "before you freak out the rookies."

They were deep in enemy-held territory with only three other soldiers for back-up, no spare resources, and no room or time for indulgences. He allowed Gates to lead him away from the remaining survivors of the squad anyway, to the narrow stream running behind the aliens' destroyed base.

"Jesus, you're a mess. Did you roll around on a pile of their corpses or what?" Gates grabbed his shoulder and shoved him forward into the stream. "Where do I even start?"

"I can -" His foot slipped and he went to one knee in the unpleasantly warm water. He didn't bother getting up; eddies of rust and dark blue and oily purple were already swirling around and downstream from him. "I can handle it myself."

"Yeah, sure you can," Gates said, crouching on the bank next to him. "Now hold still, asshole."

Gates was quick and businesslike and mercifully quiet as he splashed water over Ortez's armor and wiped away alien ichor, still fresh enough to dissolve easily in the swift-flowing stream. When he came to Ortez's face, Ortez turned away, and Gates paused, then opened a med kit and pulled out the gauze and antiseptic spray.

"Stop," Ortez said. "Just. Give me my helmet."

"Nah, if you get face gangrene or whatever and die, it's really going to cramp my style, you know? Seriously, don't move, this might suck a little but it's all I got." He sprayed the gauze, then began to dab at Ortez's face. Gently, but the antiseptic burned as it ate through crusted blood into the raw cuts beneath, and Ortez clenched his teeth against the pained sound that wanted to escape. "They really fucked you up, huh?" Gates said. "You must have pissed them off good, Ortez. Or maybe that means they liked you, who can fucking tell with those freaks."

There was blood on Gates, too. Blue smeared across his cheek, red splashed across his chest and throat. Had he realized it? Ortez leaned toward him, drawn by the contrasting colors, and his precarious balance broke.

Gates caught him and yanked him out of the water, hissing a curse, but he let Ortez fall against him and lean on his shoulder. "It's okay, man," he said, "it's okay, you're okay, you're out of there now, you're gonna be fine. Unless you get gangrene, which will not be my fault because you're the one who can't stay still for one fucking minute."

"I need my helmet," Ortez said.

"Shut the fuck up about your stupid helmet, I didn't even put a bandage on those cuts yet."

He didn't want a bandage. He didn't want Gates to keep touching him, to keep touching his _face_ , to keep looking at him. He wanted his helmet. He needed it. "Give it back."

"Jesus _Christ_. I don't have it on me, douchebag, just shut up and let me finish here and then you can go get it. Unbelievable. I try to do one nice thing for you and this is the thanks I get..."

Ortez closed his eyes, and Gates resumed swabbing the blood off his face, less gently and muttering uncomplimentary things under his breath.

Somehow, it was a relief.


	12. Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content notes: Brief references to Felix being terrible, mostly Locus obsessing.
> 
> So, what is A'rynasea's deal, anyway?

_What did you see?_

Even after the question was answered, it haunted Locus.

_Just kidding, it was fucked. Saw shit straight out of my nightmares._

So many years working together, fighting together, and yet Locus had never suspected. Had never seen a sign, and surely there had been signs. There must have been signs; at night, rather than sleep, he scoured his memories for them, finding only Felix. Felix disliking him. Felix furious, shouting curses at him. Felix mocking him. Felix at his back. Felix's knife, cold on his skin. Felix's hand on his shoulder. Felix fucking him. Felix yelling in his face. Felix taunting him, asking for it: for the gun in his mouth, for hands around his neck, for Locus's weight pinning him down.

_He fears you._

What had Locus missed? What had he not seen in all those years?

In Felix's nightmares, what had he been?

His eyes closed.

_In a known place, surrounded by shadows and familiar, mist-softened architecture. He spoke in a voice he knew, but the words came out indistinct, inaudible._

_"WHO. ARE. YOU."_

_He answered, but again he could not understand what he said._

_"I DOUBT IT."_

_And someone stepped out of the dark places between pillars: himself, taller and broader, in old armor blackened by plasma, looking down on him._

_"Pathetic," said his other self, when he started to speak. "Weak," grabbing him by the throat._

_He tried to force the other Locus's arms away, but his own hands were wrong. Unarmored. Too small. Too pale. Unable to tear away the fingers tightening around his neck._

_"Slow," Locus said. "Stupid. Useless. You thought you could trick me, didn't you? As if you could use me. As if I would ever believe I needed someone as worthless as_ you _. It amused me for a little while, but I'm tired of playing along with your foolish, pointless games. You've had this coming for a long time -"_

He woke clawing at the air, panting for breath. The ship's lights were dimmed, but slowly pulsing, and their color had shifted from blue to a yellow hue.

"A'rynasea," he said, once he could breathe again. "Was that your doing?"

The lights continued their irregular ebb and flow.

"Did you show me that?"

A'rynasea didn't reply. It never had in any obvious way since he had found it; it was voiceless, alien, willful, a mystery with many parameters he was still working to understand. Was it capable of connecting to his mind, interfering in his dreams? Had it manufactured a vision in an attempt to communicate? Could it have reached out to the gateway on Chorus and pulled from its memories to answer him?

"Was it the truth?"

The lights began to brighten and cool back to their usual blue tint, and the console produced the series of beeps he recognized as notification that the engines were ready for travel. It wasn't an answer. Perhaps he would never have an answer. Perhaps there was no answer he could accept.

Locus settled into the pilot's seat and set his course.


	13. Neck Sucking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content notes: NSFW, extremely dubious consent shading into non-consent, Felix is right back to being a huge jerk with no grasp of boundaries.

Felix was always honest with himself. Other people came and went, so he could tell them whatever would get what he wanted or needed, but he had to wake up and live with himself every day. Better to open his arms wide and embrace it all, every last facet of himself, the clever and the ugly and the petty and the badass.

He could, therefore, admit that sometimes it just plain irritated him, someone with looks like Locus's insisting on being in armor, like, fucking constantly. Locus wasn't even Felix's usual type, but it was such a waste. Locus never wanted to go to bars and get free drinks, which was at least twenty-five, thirty percent of what being good-looking was useful for, and he wasn't using his looks for any of the other seventy-five to seventy percent of benefits, either, so what even was the point of him being handsome? Nothing. No point. Total evolutionary dead end.

On the other hand, there was something extra satisfying about being the one person who could, sometimes, crack open the shell around Locus. Just get him alone and wear him down, then unhook the armor, pull the helmet off, work his fingers into Locus's undersuit and peel it away and have Locus completely and only to himself...

"Stop it," Locus said, but he always said that, and he almost never elbowed Felix away or tried to pry Felix's hands off his chest. He didn't this time, anyway; when Felix rested his chin on Locus's shoulder, Locus's head tipped back like instinct and God, didn't he look amazing like that, throat exposed and the taut lines and sinews of his neck standing out. Just delicious, and Felix wasn't usually much for getting kissy, but he put his mouth on the curve of Locus's neck and let himself taste it. Little bit salty with sweat, little bit metallic-rubbery from the undersuit, but man, Locus was just melting back into him, so Felix started to suck, letting his hands sneak down Locus's chest.

"Enough," Locus said, but his pulse beat hot and fast in Felix's mouth and fuck him, anyway, the stupid sexy asshole. Felix sucked harder, really pulling on that little patch of skin and sliding his hand lower, into the undersuit and around Locus's stiffening dick. Maybe the other good part of the constant armor thing was how it made Locus so goddamn sensitive underneath, ready to blow at almost any touch. He went easy on Locus's dick, just a little gentle rubbing, but he opened his mouth wider on Locus's neck, kneading and dragging it as Locus's breathing got rougher and louder, and then Felix bit down good and hard.

Locus's whole body jerked, arched, and he came into Felix's hand. Nice. Felix pulled back to admire the bruise already darkening under Locus's skin, and in an eyeblink Locus twisted and tackled him to the deck, pinning him down, and he growled, "I told you, _enough_."

"Sorry, partner," Felix said, grinning up at him despite his heart going a million light-years a minute. The mark on Locus's neck stood out beautifully. No one else in the universe would ever see it, but Locus was going to be feeling it for days and Felix was going to enjoy every second of it bothering him. "What can I say? Sometimes, you just drive me - _crazy_."

Locus's grip on his arms tightened. "Felix..."

"Go ahead. Shut me up," Felix said, almost tenderly. "You know you want to."

Locus covered Felix's mouth with one hand, and Felix laughed against it.


	14. Hero Worship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because when I see a prompt like "hero worship," my brain immediately thinks, "Who is the MOST INAPPROPRIATE person I can write this about?"
> 
> Content notes: Post-s13, pretty tame other than Locus's massive issues. (Locus has massive issues though.)

He had lingered at the settlement too long.

It had been unintentional. At first, he had only wanted to be certain that all of the ragtag group of bandits had been turned over to the authorities. Then there had been much-delayed shipments of essential supplies and no one else with a working ship to pick them up at the drop-off point; the short-handed local security forces had begged him to take just a few patrols while they rushed their remaining recruits through training; one of the bandits had escaped custody and needed to be re-captured...

When he came in one day from a night patrol to report that everything had been quiet, the security office's receptionist greeted him with a cheerful "Morning, Ortez! The chief'll see you in a minute," and he knew it was past time to leave.

He did make his report first. Some habits had remained unbreakable. As soon as he had finished, he left the settlement and found an open field to summon A'rynasea, but just as the ship landed, one of the settlement's children sprang out of the trees and waved at him. "Hey, Mister Ortez! Are you going somewhere? Where are you going? Someplace awesome?"

He had tried to remain uninvolved with the local children, but some contact had been unavoidable. This one, named Sophie, had been the most difficult to stay away from; she had conceived some kind of fascination with him, likely because she had been among the first group of hostages he had freed after arriving on-planet, and had often followed him around the town. Unfortunate. "Elsewhere," Locus said. "Go home."

"Are you coming back?"

He really disliked children. "No."

Surprisingly, she shrugged and said, "That's cool. You probably have a ton of other places you have to go and help, right?"

"Something like that."

"I knew it," she said, with great satisfaction. "You're, like, a big war hero or something, yeah? So now there's no war, you go around and help out anyone who needs it. Cool. I can dig it."

"No."

"Yeah, right, that's just what a wandering hero _would_ say. I saw it in a cowboy movie once. That's, like, double cool points, too." She looked at the ship speculatively. " _And_ you have a magic ship and a sword and you can kick huge amounts of butt... Man, don't get freaked out or anything, but I'm gonna try to be just like you when I grow up."

His hands clenched and his throat tightened; he forced himself to breathe, to snarl, " _Don't_ ," and he climbed into A'rynasea's cockpit and set the controls for orbit without looking back at Sophie's face.

Felix would have known what to say to her. Felix would have enjoyed it. He had loved to play the hero, to bask in attention and praise; he would have reveled in having an entire settlement's gratitude all to himself, children following him around and retelling his accomplishments, adults flirting with him, free meals and drinks for minimal effort on his part.

Felix would never have gone there to begin with. And Felix was dead.

_I am not a soldier. I am not a hero. I can make things right, but I am still a monster. I'm not a soldier..._

Locus let the ship remain in orbit for an hour, repeating the truth to himself, before opening the comms to listen for distress beacons.


	15. Good Deeds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content notes: Dramatic irony.

After Meg had finished showing off the cabinet she'd built through the vidchat, Mason said, "Really, it looks amazing. So, I've been thinking some more about that idea I mentioned last time -"

"Oh, honey, no." Meg set the tablet down and rubbed her forehead. "It's a terrible idea, it really is. There are so many _decent_ jobs you could get, with your education and experience, and I mean, I'm not making pennies here, but if we're going to go through with the baby thing, we could seriously use two steady incomes, you know?"

"I know, I know," Mason said. "It's just - I can't stop thinking about them."

"Is there something you forgot to tell me at the altar?"

"Ha, ha. Not like that. But - you weren't _there_. You didn't see them." They had joined the battle the way he imagined ancient heroes had, in old epics half-remembered from school: larger than life in their bloodied armor, scything through the enemy in seamless tandem. "They saved my life." Sometimes, dreaming, he heard them again: a deep voice saying _Hold on. You're going to make it, soldier_ , a lighter one whispering _Ssh, ssh, you're gonna be okay, man. Just keep it quiet, Wu, we'll get you out of here, but you have to keep it down_. Waking up at the med station in a haze of painkillers, asking who had brought him in, and the medics shrugging. _Ortez and Gates. Figures. Like cockroaches, those two, they always make it back._ Already gone back to the fight, only their names and reputation left behind.

"And, believe it or not, I'm pretty glad they did," Meg said. "But it's a huge risk, honey. I really wish you'd go with the sure thing for once."

"I just think - with their skills, we could do so much good. Help so many people. I just want to give it a try." He gave her the most pitiful look he could muster - and after a month of rehab, he could manage some pretty pathetic looks. "At least let me get in touch with them, see if they're interested? I mean, for all I know they've already got work lined up. Hell, they could probably get any job they wanted. If they say no, I'll be on the next transport home."

"And if they say yes..." Meg heaved a sigh, resting her cheek on one hand. "Okay, fine, you can give it a try," and she half-smiled. "Get out there, save some puppies and the universe. Just don't forget to get paid while you're at it."

"You're not gonna regret this, Meg. I promise."

"I'd better not."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler alert: EVENTUALLY MEGAN REGRETS THIS SO MUCH.


	16. Sex Pollen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My brain: Ooh, a sex pollen prompt! I should definitely write Felix/Locus sex pollen!
> 
> Also my brain: Say, we don't actually _know_ that Locus was able to get off Chorus before the Temple of Procreation was activated...
> 
> Content notes: Medium-strength sex pollen, canonical character death, if dubiously consensual masturbation is a thing then there's that, Locus is not good at coping with anything.

He was still on Chorus, searching for a functional and unattended ship, when the heat struck. His first instinct was _threat_ , and he took cover behind a stack of battered crates, searching for the source; then the heat softened into an all-encompassing warmth, curling deep in his stomach and stirring up a nebulous need. A need for more - for bared skin and contact and the solidity of another body against him, around him, _in_ him...

He froze, static blanketing his mind and his pulse racing. Over the quickened drumbeat of his blood, somehow he could hear one of the hangar bay's guards say, "Hey. Uh, does your armor feel kind of - tight, all of a sudden?"

"It's more - itchy," the other guard said. "Or kind of - chafing. And hot. Like, really hot."

"You wanna - um - you wanna go somewhere else and take it off?"

"Well - I guess it's not like these ships are going to go anywhere without us or anything, and it's really getting itchy, so - sure!"

"Awesome! I know this closet that's actually pretty comfy..."

Their footsteps and voices faded. A perfect opportunity to steal one of the ships and escape, but the heat had paralyzed him, leaving him hunched into himself on his knees, his undersuit unbearably tight and rough on his skin as his cock grew hard.

 _Felix_ cut through the static. He needed Felix. It was what Felix did, after all: touch him, torment him, suck him off, fuck him, whether he wanted it or not, and he wanted it _now_ , needed it, needed anything that could satisfy the hungering warmth within him.

But Felix was dead.

Locus had betrayed Felix and the simulation troopers had killed him. He couldn't let himself regret it, shouldn't regret it, but the heat didn't care about monsters. It didn't care about murder, the civil war, the treachery and fact of death, the cold absence at his side that death had left. The heat only wanted to be touched, filled, drowned with sensation, and Locus had never allowed it from anyone but Felix.

His cock ached, throbbing, and he dropped his gun and fumbled to unhook the bulk of his armor, peel open the undersuit and wrap his hand around himself. He wasn't that helpless. He didn't _need_ Felix.

_Oh, dude, I don't think that's gonna do the job._

He couldn't inflict himself on the inhabitants of Chorus and he couldn't have Felix. His hand would have to be enough.

It wasn't enough. He tried, rubbing and jerking and squeezing, but the heat remained, swelling and unsatisfied, prickling over his skin and drawing out sweat in thick, trickling beads. The lack of release was growing painful; he closed his eyes and they stung with salt.

_Well, would you look at that. Seems like you aren't doing so great on your own after all._

_Please_ , and he broke again. Not his hand on his cock, but Felix's thin fingers. Not the breeze through the open hangar doors, but Felix's breath hot on his neck, Felix's teeth and not the edges of the undersuit scraping against his skin. Felix's lean weight against his back, an imagined erection grinding into Locus's hip. He tore his helmet off and slid gloved fingers into his mouth, but they weren't his, they were Felix's, hooked roughly over his lower lip and the mesh grating over agonizingly sensitive skin, and he sucked on them, desperate, silently begging for more. _Felix, please..._

_What, no "stop it" this time? No "don't touch me"? You really want it, huh. You fucking sad sack, you can't even jack off by yourself, can you?_

Locus groaned, pulling the fingers deeper into his mouth; the hand around his cock eased its grip, moving more slowly. Teasing with false gentleness, the way Felix so often had. Better. Not enough. What would it take for relief, to dampen the heat?

 _Give up. Admit it. You_ need _me, Locus, you always will._

 _I need you._ Still not enough, his body knotted with tension, and he moaned it around the fingers in his mouth, despising the muffled, desperate coarseness of his voice. "Please, Felix. Please, I need you -"

 _I know you do, partner_ , Felix said, pulling Locus's head back to bare his throat. His hand tightened on Locus's cock as his teeth pinched the soft skin under Locus's jaw, and Locus came at last, his cock pulsing as he spilled over Felix's hand.

The heat slowly ebbed, but warmth lingered in him like a threat. Easy to ignore, but he couldn't deny its presence. Unlike the illusion of Felix. It was Locus's own fingers jammed into his mouth, his own hand that dripped with come; no weight at his back, no teeth on his neck, only his own awkward discomfort.

Felix was gone forever. Felix would never touch him again.

It was for the best, he thought, as he wiped off as much of the mess as he could, closed the undersuit back over himself and replaced his armor and forced himself to his feet. If there had once been something Locus might have cared for in Isaac Gates, Felix had murdered it long ago with lies and cruelty. Felix had been unrepentant, a monster in love with his monstrosity; there was nothing about him worth mourning.

Yet as the ship he'd stolen breached the atmosphere of Chorus, past the range of whatever alien force had seized the planet and into the unaffected depths of space, he still ached: hollow, starving, alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last one of these, I'm afraid! I have other fics and characters that I'd like to concentrate on for a while (including a longer fic about these two assholes). Thanks to everyone who's followed along with this collection, I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! ♥


	17. Fluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content notes: More the literal meaning of "fluff" than the usual fic meaning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... I kind of forgot I'd written this one and then also had an inspiration bug and went and wrote ANOTHER ficlet, so yup, this thing is getting two more chapters. I'M DEFINITELY WORKING ON OTHER THINGS INCLUDING THIS HORRIBLE LONG BACKSTORY FIC, THOUGH. I SWEAR.

"Oh my God, you've got to feel this shit, Locus. It's amazing."

"No."

"C'mon, man. It's like touching clouds made out of velvet and smoke and I don't fucking know, kittens? They must've killed a billion baby bunnies to make this thing."

Locus sighed heavily. "It's not made out of rabbits."

Felix paused in his ecstatic mishandling of the fuzzy scarf. "Yeah? What's it made out of, then?"

"Baby alpacas. Which," he added, seeing the question already on his partner's lips, "are shaved. Not slaughtered."

"You just suck the joy out of everything, don't you." Felix wrapped the scarf around his neck and struck some sort of pose. "Whatever - imagine how great it's gonna feel tonight when I'm wearing nothing but -"

" _No_."


	18. Fidelity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Content notes: Brief mention of unsafe sex, very disparaging language about aliens, it turns out Felix has one principle left, who knew?

So business had been a little slow lately. Maybe money was getting a little tight. Maybe they were both running right up to the edge of their tolerance for each other: picking at sore spots and scars until blood came out, fucking rough and risky with the gun loaded, knife-point at the jugular, fingers too tight around throats - anything to work out the restless nerves that came with boredom and too much time to think.

When the email with a public but discreet place to meet, a time, and a starting offer of six million credits for "pest control" came in, Felix could have kissed his phone.

The two of them checked the place out first, then cleaned up - nice clothes, makeup over Locus's scars, only the easy-to-hide emergency guns and knives - and grabbed seats at the bar ten minutes before the specified time. Felix indulged in a couple of low-alcohol drinks, and, in a fit of anticipatory generosity, bought one for Locus, too. Locus didn't touch it. Douchebag.

Right on the dot, a stranger slid in to take the seat between them. Tall guy, weird clothes, looked clean and neat enough but dude _reeked_. Like, a fish guts left in the garbage for three days kind of stench. A real familiar stench.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," the guy said. "I see that my clients' offer interested you?"

Felix looked around him at Locus, Locus's tight jaw and the glass about to shatter in his hand. "Yeah," he said, "about that. Not happening."

"I'm so sorry to hear that. If the money is not sufficient, my clients are willing to -"

"I don't think you understand," knife out and pressed into the hollow of the traitor's throat. "I don't care what you're paying. My partner and I, we don't work for aliens. And we sure as hell don't take money from stinking croc-fuckers like you. Get it?"

The traitor kept his cool. Only swallowed a little as he said, "I understand."

"Good. Feel free to spread that one around. You know, let the word get out. Wouldn't want to have any more misunderstandings like this." Felix pulled the knife back, considered sheathing it before the bartender noticed and got nervous, then shifted his grip and stabbed it into the bar's polished surface with a good, loud _thunk_. "Semper fucking Fi, asshole."

He got up and out of there as people's heads started turning. Locus followed him in silence; it was a couple of blocks before he said, "We do need work."

"Are you going to make me a fucking liar, Ortez?"

Hesitation. Like Locus hadn't been two seconds from freaking out and strangling the guy right at the bar. "No."

"Damn right. Because we are never going to need work that badly." He breathed in, kicked over a trash can, and stuck his hands in his pockets. "We'll find something tomorrow. Maybe IPD'll have something new. Or -" Inspiration struck. "- maybe we can try to run a few checks on that guy. See who's willing to pay for his head, yeah?"

"Yes," this time without the pause, and Felix grinned.

This was going to be one of the _good_ jobs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is ALMOST CERTAINLY the end of these ficlets for real - but I probably should know better than to make any promises.


	19. Truth Serum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Content notes: Forced truth-telling.

Of course there was an alien Temple of Truth.

"Of course there's an alien Temple of Truth," Felix said, unable to stop the words spilling out of his mouth. "Fucking great! Did they make these things just to personally inconvenience me or what?"

"No," Locus said. "That would be physically impossible."

"I don't care. I hate it when stupid shit like this happens. And also, I hate it when you do that thing where you're all right and logical when I'm pissed off. I mean, _hate_ it."

"Your armor has orange trim," said Locus, slowly, like he was testing something.

"God, you're annoying. It's not that complicated! We have to tell the truth while the Temple's active. What a fucking surprise."

"I hate you."

"Not exactly brand-new information, there."

"No, but I - hate you."

"Yeah, I get it, thanks."

"What did you see in the gateway?"

_Fuck_. "Fuck! Seriously, man? What do you think I saw?" Control, control, control. "Your ugly mug. Obviously. You could give the Phantom of the Opera nightmares. I mean, how many babies have you made cry just in the last week?"

Locus stared at him, then said, disgusted, "The sword must shield you from the effects."

Felix bit down on his tongue, bit down on _No, you son of a bitch, I saw_ you _. Same fucking nightmare as always, shiny new alien package to really twist the knife you're going to stick in my gut some day_ , bit until the blood came out and he could say, "I'm going to make Tucker's death extra slow. Just for fun. Really drag it out. Let's make sure he and the rest of those stupid fucks are somewhere safe before we purge this dump, okay? For me."

"That may not be practical."

"Well, we can try." At least the spin had worked. _None so fucking blind, huh._ And as long as Locus didn't want to see, Felix had it made.


	20. Hanahaki Disease

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A.K.A. "flowerchoke sadworld." Because my brain's need to pair up tropes/prompts with the worst possible people struck yet again.
> 
> Content notes: Unrequited feelings of - some kind, minor body horror/illness.

Of course they were on the comms with Control, hashing out details for the next shipment of "found" vehicles, when that fucking tickle kicked in again. First time in a year and a half, but of course it would be the least convenient time possible.

"Right, fine, that'll work," he said, interrupting Locus's eternal nitpicking about drop-off coordinates. "Excuse me just a second," and he muted his side of the channel and ducked away from the screen and yanked his helmet off and hacked his lungs out for a solid minute. Okay, not so much "lungs." Lung chunks would be an improvement over the shit ripping through his throat on its way up, probably.

Fuck. He'd been so sure the last time had been, well, the last. Sure that he'd finally gotten it into Locus's crazy skull for good that they needed each other, how much Locus needed _him_.

It was the job. All the time apart, even though that had been one of the selling points when he'd heard it. Undercover stress. Leaving Locus on his own too much, surrounded by idiots who could put stupid thoughts in his head. Chorus was going to be the ruin of a beautiful partnership if they didn't wrap things the fuck up and get out of there.

His helmet was making noises in his hand. He jammed it back on and said, "I said just a second, I'll be -"

"The call is finished. Are you all right?"

Like Locus actually cared beyond making sure Felix hadn't been compromised or some shit. Douchebag. "Yeah, fine now. I think that last batch of ration bars was expired or something. Didn't realize we were going with biological warfare."

Pause. "I haven't heard of anyone else having issues."

"Then I guess I just got extra lucky. I swear this planet is cursed. Are we still on for the delivery?"

Another little pause, like Locus wasn't going to let it drop, but then he said, "Confirmed. No further changes to time or location."

"Great. I'm out." He cut the radio before Locus could fail to ask if Felix was _certain_ he was all right and took a couple of deep breaths. No more tickling, not yet. Just the usual harsh sting of the aftermath in his throat, the first prickling pressure of growing weight in his lungs, a familiar bright metal taste on his tongue that he couldn't enjoy.

Finish the job. Get off the planet. With a little time and effort he could fix it again, just like all the other times, but first they had to finish the fucking job.

He kicked dirt over the splatter of blood and hooked thorns, then headed back to the New Republic base.


	21. Hatesex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ INTENSIFIES*
> 
> Content notes: angry in-armor frottage, very unsafe breathplay.

It was always the same, after a job went wrong. Felix shouted. Felix cursed. Felix threatened. And, when it seemed that his rage might have blazed out, he turned on Locus; this time in the shadows of the cave where they had taken shelter from the seasonal downpour. Hand on Locus's shoulder, voice quieter but no less intense, whining, "Come on, man. You can't tell me you're not pissed off, too."

Of course he was. The delay in mission completion meant a cut in payment and a check to their still-fragile reputation. And to be first outwitted by amateur smugglers and then trapped by the weather was deeply irritating. "Irrelevant. Once it's clear, we'll track them to their hideout and eliminate them."

"Fuck that." Felix dug his fingers beneath Locus's pauldron, leaning on Locus's back as the rain rattled through the stiff leaves of the jungle beyond the cave. "I hate waiting. I hate this shitty, tiny cave. I hate the rain. I _really_ hate those assholes pulling a fast one on us, and I know you do, too. Just give the act a fucking rest. Let go. Get it all out," and his hand moved lower.

As reliable as the reaction of gunpowder to flame, or the inevitable momentum of a Scorpion accelerating downhill. As easily resisted. Felix's hand reached lower still, and Locus turned to push him away and slammed him into the cave's rough wall instead.

They didn't bother removing armor beyond what was necessary; Felix pried off Locus's codpiece as Locus did the same for him, and then Locus straddled him and ground against the swell of his cock. He moved with deliberate slowness, seeking the most efficient angle to finish quickly so they could move on. Felix tried to unhook his helmet, too, and Locus seized his wrists, pinning them to the damp rock. Felix only laughed and rolled his hips up, saying, "Put some effort into this, Christ. My granny would be a better lay, and she's been dead for twenty years."

"Shut up."

"Give me something worth shutting up for, then."

Locus tightened his grip on Felix's wrists and thrust roughly against him, his chestplate scraping over Felix's. Felix moaned, rutting impatiently between Locus's thighs, and he tore one hand out of Locus's grasp and grabbed Locus's neck, sticking his thumb into the hollow of Locus's throat where the armor gaped to allow movement. Locus's breath shortened, quickened, and, as he always did, Felix pushed further: his fingers sinking into the back of Locus's neck hard enough to bruise through the undersuit, his thumb jabbing up to tilt Locus's head back and the heel of his hand pressing on Locus's windpipe.

The rain roared down outside the cave's narrow mouth, and Locus clenched his legs around Felix and rocked faster, harder, furious and hungering for relief from unnecessary and unwanted arousal, to be released from this meaningless waste of time and energy. Felix arched against him and groaned " _Fuck_ ," shuddering under him, "hurry it up already, are you a goddamn camel or something?"

Locus caught his helmet and shoved his head back, and the dull thunk of the metal bouncing off the stone resonated deep within him. Better. Closer. Felix was still struggling to free his other hand from Locus's grip, digging his thumb into the underside of Locus's jaw, and Locus fought to breathe and kept grinding against Felix until finally the heat and friction and dizziness sparked into climax, spilling out of him as he felt Felix's cock twitch and soften.

For a moment, he, too, weakened: taking in deep, painful gasps of air when Felix let go of his throat, releasing Felix's hand and allowing his weight to rest against Felix.

Then Felix shoved him off and brushed past him to look outside. "It's starting to clear up," he said. "Let's go while there's still tracks or whatever. I have to tell you, if those pricks get away again? This time, I'm going to take it personally."

Of course. The distraction had been dealt with; the mission was again their only priority, as it was supposed to be. Anything more would be - unprofessional. "They won't."

The smugglers were duly caught and executed, the stolen goods recovered, and payment received from the client with fewer complaints than Locus had expected. An entirely adequate conclusion, their reputation untarnished if not increased, and yet the money brought him less satisfaction than the interruption had.

Unfortunate.


	22. Things You Said

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Probably the last one. _Probably_.
> 
> Written for a Tumblr meme, prompt "things you said when we were the happiest we ever were."
> 
> Content notes: brief bounty hunter brutality, kind of?

They came down on the target in perfect tandem: Felix kicking his legs out from under him, Locus grabbing him by the neck and slamming him against the alley's wall so that Felix could snap the handcuffs on. After they'd stuffed him into the back seat of Siris's car and Siris pulled away to take him to IPD, Felix dusted his hands off and said, still slightly out of breath, "And that's what justice looks like. Motherfucker."

"... he owed a fine."

"So? Fines are important. Fines are how we pay for libraries and public parks and all that good stuff."

"That's taxes."

"Whatever. Relax." Felix threw one arm around Locus's shoulders, loose and casual. "Anyway. Nice work, partner. Let's go for steak. What do you say?"

The mission, minor and unimportant as it was, had gone smoothly; quick, quiet, no unexpected expenses, no injuries, success at the end. And Felix's easy, intrusive intimacy seemed less irritating than usual. Locus said, "I'll pay."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Oh, Sam. I'm going to make you regret that."

For that night, he didn't, despite the bill.


End file.
